


Prince Of Rohan

by Burning_Nightingale



Series: Back To Middle Earth Month 2012 [7]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Brotherly Love, Cousins, Gen, Pre-Canon, Young Éomer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:59:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Nightingale/pseuds/Burning_Nightingale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A diplomatic visit from Rohan never fails to be an interesting occasion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prince Of Rohan

**Author's Note:**

> Sifting through my B2MEM 2012 file as I posted all of them to this archive, I found that this little thing was complete and yet hadn't been posted anywhere. I remember writing it, but obviously by some oversight didn't post it xD Here it is, anyway; a reminder of a very fun challenge that I can't believe occurred almost two years ago now.

The young man from Rohan had taken exception to his sleeping quarters. “I cannot see out across the city,” Éomer said, staring up at Faramir with beseeching eyes. “The view from my room is _boring_.”

Faramir could see his brother was about to say something rash, and laid a hand on his arm. Little Éomer was only six, after all; he could not be expected to know what was polite and what was not. “This is a very comfortable, luxurious bedchamber, Éomer,” he said to the small boy, “Are you sure the view from the window is so important? We can take you up to the walls to look out over the city, if you would like.”

Éomer shook his head stubbornly. “No. _Room_ with a view.”

Faramir worried his lip, and pinched Boromir’s arm when he took a breath to say something. “Ouch, Faramir, don’t pinch me!” Boromir grumbled, rubbing his arm.

“Don’t be idiotic, then,” Faramir said back. Despite himself, Éomer giggled.

Footsteps were heard at the end of the corridor, and another familiar face appeared. “Hello there, boys,” Théodred said with a smile as he came towards them. “Are you settling in, Éomer?”

Little Éomer ran to his cousin, who swung him up into his arms with a laugh. “I don’t have a room with a view, Théodred!” Éomer said with a slight whine.

“Now now, Éomer, it is not for us to question our host’s hospitality, is it?” Théodred said in a lightly scolding tone. “I am sure your room is wonderful.”

“It has a nice bed,” Éomer said reluctantly, playing with a few loose strands of Théodred’s hair to avoid looking his cousin in the eye.

Théodred laughed, winking at Faramir and Boromir over Éomer’s shoulder. “There you are, then. Now, I’m sure the sons of the Steward will not be averse to taking you up to the walls, hmm?”

“Of course not,” Faramir said promptly.

“Will you come?” Boromir asked Théodred eagerly.  Faramir fought the urge to roll his eyes. Boromir had been tailing Théodred around like an overeager puppy ever since he had arrived. Théodred was two years older than his brother, and already a blooded fighter and a slayer of orcs. Faramir feared they would become best friends.

“Of course!” the Prince of Rohan answered jovially, shifting Éomer to get a better hold on the boy. “I couldn’t have my little cousin making a mess of diplomatic relations, now could I? A sweet child, but not a tactful one.”

Éomer grinned, having no idea what his cousin had said, and the two brothers laughed. “Come, then, it’s this way,” Faramir said, leading them all up to the walls.

A chill wind was gusting over the tall white stone, and Éomer couldn’t seem to close his little mouth. “So big!” he crowed, leaning as far over the battlements as Théodred’s grip on the back of his tunic would let him.

“These plains before us are the Fields of Pelennor,” Faramir told Éomer, “And over there is the river Anduin, and the ruined city of Osgiliath. Beyond that is Ithilien, and Mordor.”

Boromir laughed and slung an arm around Faramir’s shoulders. “You see, my brother is a scholar, Théodred!” he said affectionately. “He is a lot smarter than I, many times over! You watch, he will publish a book by the time is our age, and it will sell a hundred hundred copies!”

Faramir swatted his arm and shrugged it off. “Be quiet, Boromir.”

Théodred smiled. “I am sure Faramir will be a great geographer! Do you like geography, Faramir?”

Faramir shifted. “It’s interesting,” he said quietly, “But I like old history better.”

“Faramir knows everything about ancient history!” Boromir said proudly, “I bet he could recite every single name of every single king from Tar-Minyatur himself onward!”

Faramir blushed and elbowed Boromir. “Be _quiet_ , Boromir,” he hissed.

Boromir looked slightly offended, but Théodred laughed. “You’re embarrassing him,” he said kindly, “You don’t want him getting a big head, do you?” 

Boromir laughed, and ruffled Faramir’s hair, which he tried to prevent. He had always found that _so_ annoying.

“Look! Riders!” Éomer said suddenly, drawing their attention to the plains. A contingent of riders was advancing across the plain; the Steward of Gondor and the King of Rohan, returning from their visit to Dol Amroth.

“It’s father!” Boromir said happily, “We should go meet him!”

~~~

Later on, Faramir found himself again at the walls with the Prince of Rohan at his side. Éomer had been tucked up in bed, Boromir had retired, and many lights in the city had been extinguished. But far above the sky was awash with twinkling pinpoints of light, and Faramir had taken a book from the library with which to study them.

Théodred had appeared after Faramir had been there awhile, and had smiled down at him. “Do you see patterns up there, Faramir?” he’d asked.

Faramir had nodded. “There are lots, and they’re all here in the book,” he confirmed, tracing a finger across the page.

“I’ve never been able to see them,” Théodred had shrugged, and had moved to the wall to look out upon the city. Faramir had returned to his study of the stars, and a quiet, comfortable silence of contemplation had grown between them.

Eventually Théodred said, “The world looks so different from here.” His tone was musing.

On a whim, Faramir rose from his place and came to stand beside him at the wall. The whole of Pelennor and beyond was again spread out before them, this time coloured with the innumerable shades of moonlight and shadow that characterized the night time landscape, broken here and there by tiny lanterns and candles from windows.

“It’s a peaceful night,” Théodred said. Faramir could hear the smile in his voice, even if he could not quite see it in the darkness.

“It is really very big, isn’t it?” Faramir asked quietly.

“Big and broad and alien. That is the world in front of you, young Faramir,” Théodred patted him on the head with a laugh. “Nothing to be afraid of from here, I assure you. Now, it is late, and I should be held very irresponsible if I do not accompany you back inside this instant.”

Faramir gathered up his book with a smile and followed Théodred inside, casting one last longing glance back at the stars. On their way Théodred stopped him, and opened a door quietly. Inside, Éomer was fast asleep in his room. They both chuckled quietly; apparently it really was a very nice bed.

 


End file.
